


Let it Linger

by OmniscientOranges



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Movie Night, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29297985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniscientOranges/pseuds/OmniscientOranges
Summary: In which Dean keeps picking up chicks at bars, Cas isnotjealous, Dean has a cereal organization system, team free will (2.0) has a movie night, and Cas has some hookups of his own.note: the "other(s)" are only one night stands not serious relationships
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural)/Other(s), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Other(s)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 317





	1. Good, Even

**Author's Note:**

> Title shamelessly lifted from Linger by The Cranberries, which was stuck in my head while writing this.

Cas noticed Dean was feeling restless.

Well, it’s not only Cas that noticed, it’s just that Cas is the only one who offered a suggestion to fix it. After an hour or two of Dean pacing around post-hunt and organizing, then re-organizing, then re-re-organizing the cupboard, Cas proposed they go out and find something to do. Dean lit up at that and said _Hey, wanna go to a bar?_ Cas accepted, if only so Dean would stop trying to alphabetize the cereals for a while.

Sam and Jack looked engrossed in binging through _The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina,_ so it's just Cas accompanying Dean out tonight. 

Cas doesn’t mind bars, really. They’re actually kind of entertaining once you get used to the drunken yelling and occasional uncoordinated fight. If he lets himself sink far enough back into his seat while watching the crowd it almost feels like the old days. The _old_ old days of watching humanity from afar. Back before hell, or the apocalypse, or the wars fought in the name of it. Back before the Fall, and dying more than once. Back before Dean. It's odd, statistically speaking this past decade and change only amounts to what could be considered the space between one blink and the next if he were human, but to Cas it feels like all that time before was just leading up to now. Like it was all a protracted prologue to get him here. Here, incidentally, being a bar a few stains short of seedy on the outskirts of Kansas. It's not a glamorous life, all things considered, but it's one he finds comfort in. 

Dean holds up two beers in triumph as he weaves his way back to their booth, the smile on his face crinkling the corners of his eyes. _He's getting old,_ Cas thinks, _but it's not like I'm particularly young either._

Dean slips into the seat in front of him and slides one beer across the table, Cas catches it on instinct. "So," Dean starts, "What's the plan for tonight?" 

Cas sighs and looks around the bar, digging his thumbnail under the label of his beer. "I'm not sure," he turns back to Dean with a faint smile. "We could always relax. You _did_ just get your wrist broken by a ghoul, you know." 

"Yeah, but you healed me, so I'm all good." 

""Healed" and "all good" are two very different things, Dean." 

Dean rolls his eyes. "Whatever man, _I_ think I’m fine." His eyes go straight from the roll into scanning the bar. 

Dean's not paying attention, so Cas lets himself look. Lets himself catalog Dean's features for the millionth time - the curve of his nose, the slant of his jawline, the hairs out of place, the freckles painted onto his skin. Cas has still never gotten tired of looking at Dean. He thought he would, at first. He figured it was just a holdover from knitting him back together. _Just checking my work,_ he'd tell himself. A brush of Dean's shoulder every now and then to shift a freckle he realized he'd gotten an inch out of place, or a hand on his back to wipe away the last of the claw mark scars from a werewolf hunt gone bad when he was just a teenager. He'd check Dean's soul most often, make sure it was intact. Still bright, still Dean, still _there._

But as his grace ebbed and waned, and in the times it's been gone altogether, he'd gotten the chance to look past Dean's soul and instead see Dean the way everyone else sees him. The Dean with the goofy smile and bow legs and "delicate features", as he was told by a slightly drunk Sam that their cousin once put it. 

These days, he looks less at Dean's soul and more at just _Dean._ Cas thinks, somehow, the way the "regular" Dean Winchester makes him feel is more cosmic and divine than anything he could feel looking at his soul - though he's still of the opinion that Dean's soul is one of the few truly beautiful ones his father created. Maybe he's biased, but he can't find it in himself to change his mind. 

“What do you think about her?” Dean asks, and that knocks Cas out of his reverie. He traces where Dean’s eyes are looking and they fall on a woman smiling and talking with her friends on the other side of the bar. Short, dark hair, light eyes, wearing a crop top and a tight skirt. 

“She’s…very under-dressed for the weather.” Cas answers, pointedly ignoring Dean’s question-under-the-question. _It's true, there’s no way she’s very warm in that outfit, and it is coming up on winter._

“Ha, yeah, I think that’s kinda the point, Cas.” Dean counters, eyes still on the woman and not on Cas.

Cas wants to snap back with _I know that’s the point, Dean_ , but decides against it. He doesn’t feel like getting into an argument, but something about Dean wanting to pick up people at the bars they go to always makes him, well, Dean calls it “bitchy” but Cas feels he’s just “irritated”. They _have_ had long and tense arguments about it in the car before that Cas always feels a bit ashamed of post-fight. It’s not Dean’s fault, not like he _knows._

“Right, well, wish me luck.” Dean stands and walks away with a wink that does _not_ make Cas’ stomach flip, it does _not._

Dean saunters over with bravado and false confidence. He obviously gives the woman some cheesy pick-up line. Cas holds his breath for a moment. It’s not like he wants Dean to get rejected, it’s just that he’d rather Dean would come home - back to the bunker - with _him._ Maybe they’d stay up and watch a movie or have a nightcap or just sit and _talk_ for a few hours until Dean is yawning and leaning into Cas’ shoulder and saying _'m not_ _tired, Cas, 'm just resting my eyes_ until he finally has to give in and let Cas half carry him to his bedroom. Sometimes, when that last one happens, Cas could swear Dean hesitates before he closes the door on him. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking, though. 

The under-dressed woman laughs at Dean’s pick up line. Cas lets out his breath and it turns into a sigh. He watches them chat for a few more minutes, and he’s fully _glowering_ at the two of them over there now. Her hand is on Dean’s shoulder, which makes something raw and tangled spread through Cas' chest. _Who does she think she is? Doesn’t she know that’s my handprint she’s touching? Mine._ And, oh, that’s maybe…way more possessive than Cas thinks it should be. He tears his eyes away and focuses on nursing the cheap beer in front of him, the label almost completely ripped off. 

After a few more minutes of label ripping and dirty looks, Cas sees Dean start to walk toward him with his arm wrapped around the same woman from earlier.

Dean stops in front of him, smiling as the girl laughs and curls further into his side. “Hey buddy, we’re gonna get outta here. You’ll be good finding your own way home tonight?”

Cas does his best to put on an unaffected front, “Yes, I think I’ll manage.”

“Great,” and Dean shoots him a winning smile that, admittedly, _does_ make Cas’ stomach flip. “See ya, Cas.”

Cas watches them go, sighs again, and picks some more at the tattered remains of the beer label.

"In love with your best friend, I've been there." 

Cas startles at the interruption to his wallowing (his very _angelic_ and not pitiful wallowing, thank you). He looks towards the voice and finds a man sitting at the table directly across the aisle from his and Dean's booth ( _just his booth, now_ ). He's got his hand around a beer bottle in a position that says he just took a sip of it, and trailing up to his face Cas notices he has deliberately combed hair, a defined jawline, and 3 sets of earrings dotted up the sides of both ears. 

He's, honestly, fairly attractive. 

Cas moves to defend himself over the _in love with your best friend_ comment the man's just made, "Oh, no I-" 

"Hey, no need to explain. Like I said, I get it," he smiles, and, yeah, still fairly attractive. He slides off his lone seat at his table and into the spot Dean had been sitting earlier that night. Cas eyes him, but doesn't protest. 

The man sticks his hands out and tells Cas his frankly instantly forgettable first name. 

Searching for something to call him, Cas recalls he's often seen Claire refer to men she's met but doesn't care to remember the names of as [Blank] Guy - like Hardware Store Guy, or Walmart Guy, or Chinese Food Place Guy. Cas has unintentionally picked up the habit in his own internal monologue. Therefore, "Bar Guy" seems to be an apt name for now.

Cas sticks his hand out to meet Bar Guy's. "Castiel," and when he sees the furrow of Bar Guy's brow he adds, "but most people call me Cas." 

"Most people meaning Mr. American Pie over there?" 

Cas isn't quite sure if he gets the reference. "The movie or the song?" 

"The song, but the movie works too." 

Cas considers it, then lets out a small laugh, still picking at the label on his half-drunk beer. 

Bar Guy's eyes soften. He seems kind, if a bit nosy. "Trust me, it gets better." 

"Does it?" And Cas is actually asking in earnest, though he wonders what would constitute "better". He does know he'd like to find out. 

"Usually, you just have to get over them first." 

Cas scoffs at that. Get over Dean? At this point he doesn't know if that's even possible. 

Bar Guy picks up on Cas' derision. "You know what the best way to get over someone is?" 

Cas, eyes still fixed on his beer bottle, thinks a moment. "Well, many movies would say the answer to that is copious amounts of either alcohol or ice cream. Sometimes both." 

Bar Guy laughs, "Yeah, maybe," he licks his lips and leans a few inches further into Cas' personal space than he's normally comfortable with (with people who aren't Winchester’s or Winchester adjacent). "But I was gonna say, the best way to get over someone is to find a _new_ someone to help you forget the _old_ someone. If you're interested." Bar Guy's eyes flick up to his and, oh, there's a sort of _intent_ there. He isn't always the best at picking up on human subtleties, but he thinks he knows enough to know when he's being, well, _propositioned._ Bar Guy's hand insistently finding its way onto Cas' thigh just further confirms his suspicion. 

Cas opens his mouth to politely decline, but something stops him. Maybe it's the half a beer (unlikely), or the potential truth in the man's words (less unlikely), or the way he's thinking about how right now Dean is probably making out with that woman in the backseat of the Impala (much more likely), or the flecks of green he's just noticed in Bar Guy's eyes (very likely) but- 

"Alright." The word rolls off Cas' tongue before he can stop it, but he finds - surprisingly - he doesn't regret it. 

"Great," Bar Guy says with what Cas is sure he _thinks_ is a winning smile, "Your place or-" 

"Your place." 

"Right." Bar Guy slaps a few dollars down on the table. He leads Cas through the crowd, out the door into the crisp night air, and into the passenger's seat of his decidedly _not_ classic car. 

The car ride over is strangely serene. It turns out Bar Guy doesn't live all that far from where the bar is, so it's a _short_ strangely serene ride. 

Cas stands an appropriate distance away as Bar Guy unlocks his front door. _Appropriate? What's appropriate in this situation? Should I be standing at a less "appropriate" distance?_

Cas doesn't have to ponder that very long, since Bar Guy's gotten the door open and is tugging him inside by the hand. 

The door clicks shut behind them and Bar Guy (Chris? Mark? Usually Cas is better with names than this) pushes Cas up against the wall and kisses him. Cas lets himself get lost in kissing back. He can count on one hand the amount of people he's kissed, but that number zeroes out if he's asked to count how many _men_ he's kissed, like this, with a _need_. With a want. He realizes he likes it considerably better than all the other times he's been kissed, and wonders if that has to do with the situation or the gender. He thinks on it as he pushes Bar Guy's jacket from his shoulders, and figures the answer is probably both. Maybe-Chris or Maybe-Mark's hands wander to Cas' tie and pull it off. 

In moments that last far too long to be considered fleeting - Cas imagines it's Dean's hands on him. Dean's hands in his hair, on his waist, pulling off his belt, tugging him onto the bed. He knows that's not the point of what the man offered him. This is supposed to help him get _over_ Dean - not make things worse. But over the years Cas had tried several times to get _over_ Dean, none of them lasting long enough to make much of an impact (some only lasting upwards of 5 minutes). Not-Dean's hands wander further. 

In the end, it's nice. Good, even. 

He can say with certainty he liked it much better than when he'd had sex with April. Even before she'd tied him up and stabbed him, there was something about it that wasn't quite...right? Wasn't what he wanted, not really. It was something he felt obligated to do. Something he felt he should do as a newly minted red-blood (technically) American (technically) man. He doesn't like to admit it to himself, but even then he'd closed his eyes and pictured Dean instead too.

Now, he lays in the dark for a few dozen minutes. Not-Dean is already dozing off next to him. He knows it's considered rude to leave - and he is quite comfortable - so he lets himself fall asleep too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I just think Cas should get to have gay sex is that too much to ask)
> 
> And an added note, any sex scenes will be very very vaguely described since I don't want to write them lmao


	2. Bruise

Dean hears the heavy metallic thud of the bunker door opening and closing. At the sound, he sets down the two cereal boxes he was holding. _I'll be damned if Sam or Cas catches me organizing this crap again, but if Jack would stop messing up my system I wouldn't have to._

He leaves the kitchen and winds through the hallway to get to the war room. There, halfway down the steps, is a slightly rumpled looking Cas. 

Dean relaxes at the sight of him. He wouldn't say he was worried, but he wasn't _not_ worried. "Hey man, where you been? You didn't come back at all last night." 

Cas, always one for chats, answers with: "I was out." 

"Out? What do you mean "out"? Out whe-" Dean stops dead in the middle of his sentence and stares at something below Cas' eye line. "Wait. What is that?" 

And Dean reaches and gestures to what is very clearly a hickey on Cas' neck. 

"Dude, is- is that a _hickey?"_

Cas' eyes go wide for a half-second before going back to his ever-present semi-squint. Rubbing the side of his neck, Cas says, "What? Dean, no. It's just a bruise." 

Dean purses his lips. "A bruise? Cas, man, seriously? I know a hickey when I see one." Okay, Dean _is_ trying not to sound like a nosy parent. _Or a jealous boyfriend,_ his brain unhelpfully adds. He settles on trying to sound casual, but the next part still comes out incredulous. "Did you _hook up_ with someone last night?" 

A harsh look crosses Cas' face, and Dean's briefly reminded that, above all else, Cas is still a capital "a" Angel (and could totally drop kick his ass into next Thursday without breaking a sweat). Cas levels that look right at Dean and says, "And what if I did, Dean, why would it matter to you?" 

Dean stammers, and before he can think of a good answer Cas storms off and leaves Dean still standing wrong-footed. 

Dean turns to watch Cas rush off deeper into the bunker and sees Sam appear in the doorway in front of him. He almost gets body checked by the pissed-off angel headed in his direction, and Sam's head swivels to watch him go. 

"What's up with him?" Sam says, pointing behind him. 

"He has a hickey." Dean supplies, with a hollow ring to his voice; still staring after Cas. 

" _Oh_ ," Sam's eyebrows raise. "Okay...is that a bad thing?" 

Dean shakes his head and finally looks at Sam. "No, no it's not a bad thing, Sammy. I just- I didn't know Cas did stuff like that. I mean, the guy didn't lose his millennias old v-card until what, a few years ago?" 

Sam shrugs, "I dunno, but he is eons old Dean, he's bound to have a life outside of us." 

"Yeah," Dean clenches then unclenches his jaw and nods. "Yeah, I know that." 

_"Right_ , well, anyway, I think I found us a case-" 

If Dean tunes Sam out and thinks instead of the outline of the deep purple bruise half-hidden by Cas' half-buttoned collar and wonders, with a turn of his stomach, if there's ones that are more than half-hidden; then neither mention it.

  
  


-

  
  


_"Is that a hickey?"_

_"Did you hook up with someone last night?"_

_"And what if I did, Dean, why would it matter to you?"_

Cas had overreacted. He knew that. It was unnecessarily rude, but something about _Dean_ asking him if he'd "hooked up" with someone made him angry in the "divine wrath of heaven will rain down upon you" sense - which is angrier than he has been in at least the last few decades. 

_"Did you hook up with someone last night?" I don't know, Dean, didn't you? So you can go out and sleep with whomever you please and I'm just supposed to wait around for you to come back? I'm not your pet or your dutiful housewife. I'm not your anything, in fact, if you hadn't noticed. If you hadn't already made absolutely sure of that._

Cas knew, also, in the back of his head, that Dean hadn't meant it like that. He was surprised, that's all. It's not like one night stands were something Cas did often. Or did ever, really. 

So maybe that was why Cas had been sitting in the kitchen for the last half hour audibly scraping his spoon on the bottom of a cereal bowl that's been empty for the past 5 minutes. Maybe he was waiting for Dean to come around and mumble something about how _the raisin bran does not go next to the fruit loops, come on man_ and Cas would tilt his head and peer at him fondly and Dean would sit down across from him with a huff and start talking about last night's episode of _Chopped_ \- and just like that, all would be forgiven. Maybe Cas was waiting for that, or maybe he was simply engrossed in his cereal bowl harmonics. Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Then, footsteps on hard concrete that stop abruptly near the door frame. Cas doesn't have to turn to know it's Dean, and to know Dean is weighing whether or not Cas still seems pissed enough to warrant heel turning and walking away. A breath, and footsteps down 3 stairs, and the image out of the corner of Cas' eye of a Dean who is _very_ much trying to make himself small (not that that's something a man of his size could ever entirely succeed at). 

Cas doesn't look at him directly, but he can't stop the smile that pulls at his mouth when he hears Dean mutter under his breath: "Ugh, man, seriously? The raisin bran goes at the _end_ of the cereals, not the beginning. Do I _need_ to make a chart?" 

"That might be helpful, Dean. I understand quantum mechanics, but the intricacies of your cereal organizational system still baffles me." 

A matching smile spreads across Dean's face at hearing Cas' voice. "It's by flavor, dude, which is why you don't get it," Dean turns and reaches down to swipe the bowl out from under Cas, leaving him with just a sugar-crusted spoon to tap against the solid wood of the table. "Molecules, right?" Dean asks, as he drops the bowl in the skin. 

Cas sighs and looks a bit forlorn at the reminder. "Yes, mostly, though some things are more agreeable than others." 

Dean pats Cas on the shoulder and plops down across from him with a bowl of one of the more brightly colored cereals, and grins at Cas over his spoon. 

_Just like that._

After a few minutes of companionable silence accompanied by intermittent crunching, Dean takes a long breath out. "Look, about earlier," _or, maybe not._ "I didn't mean for it to come across like I was bothered by, well-" Dean waves his hand at Cas' neck, freshly healed of the hickey that had been there hours before. "It just caught me off guard. Casual hookups haven't really been your scene so it kinda surprised me. But I just wanted to say - I'm happy for you. Glad you're, gettin' out there, ya know?" 

"Right, well, thank you for that." Cas moves to stand since he really was hoping to avoid this whole topic of conversation for the rest of forever. He's halfway out of his seat before- 

"So, are you gonna see her again?" 

_Her._

Will you see _her_ again. 

It's small. It's nothing, really. Just a pronoun, just two simple _letters,_ he could let it slide, not like Dean would judge him for it either way but- 

Yeah. 

Cas stands to full height and looks like he's going to walk past Dean, until he stops parallel to him and drops his hand onto Dean's shoulder- digs his fingers in a bit for added effect. Cas leans down until his mouth is a few inches from Dean's ear, and he feels Dean's muscles tense at the sudden shift in energy. 

"No, Dean, I don't think I'll be seeing _him_ again." 

Dean makes a small noise in the back of his throat that sounds halfway between choking and gasping. It seems like he's about to open his mouth to say something, but Cas is already on the other side of the room. 

Cas walks out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and slams his bedroom door.


	3. Movie Night (Hesitate)

It's been a week. 

After the whole scene in the kitchen with Dean they'd fallen into not talking about it. Though Dean _had_ tried to talk Cas into hitting on the very _male_ waiter at a diner they'd gone to (which Cas had politely declined to do, though he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless). That had ended up being the start of what would turn into a days long hunt for the unmarked grave of a violent restless spirit haunting a butchery in eastern Ohio, which ended in several cracked ribs for both of the Winchesters and a splitting headache for Cas after healing them. 

So, yes, it's been a week. 

_No time for any new bars, at least._

Cas is leaning back in a library chair drumming his fingers on his leg with a book on werewolves laying half-read and flat on the table when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He fishes it out and stares at a new text thread. 

**David: u busy?**

David. 

Oh. 

_That's_ what his name was. 

Cas remembers, vaguely, Bar Guy- _David_ , grabbing Cas' phone off the nightstand as Cas shrugged on his trenchcoat and casually putting his number in. _If you ever want to do this again, just call._ Cas had promptly forgotten about it, distracted by everything else that had happened in the past few days. 

Cas stares at the text. _Busy? Not particularly. But I'm assuming he means am I interested in having sex with him again, rather than a genuine desire to know what I'm currently doing._

Cas keeps staring at the text. He checks the time. It's late enough that if he left now he would get back around when everyone would be going to sleep, and could come up with a nonspecific excuse to avoid any questions as to his whereabouts. Honestly, that night had been fun. He understands now why Dean partakes in that particular past-time so often. Cas opens the keyboard to respond when - like he could read Cas' thoughts from across the bunker - Dean walks in. 

"Hey," Dean says. Cas startles, and quickly sets his phone face down on the table in front of him. Dean, blissfully, doesn't seem to notice. 

"I was gonna watch a movie, you want to come?" Dean asks, wringing his hands a bit like he's - if Cas didn't know any better he'd say Dean was _nervous_. "Thought we could make some popcorn. I know it doesn't taste like much to you but you said the texture was "somewhat agreeable", right?" 

Cas had said that, to be fair. 

Cas clears his throat, "What movie?" 

"Oh," Dean shrugs, "I dunno, I was thinking of letting Jack pick tonight." 

Cas narrows his eyes. "Dean, if we let Jack pick we'll just watch Clueless for the 20th time." 

"Yeah, but you really _don't_ wanna watch Clueless again?" 

Cas tilts his head and ponders briefly. "Fair point. I'll be there in a few minutes." 

Dean grins, "Great, I'll just-" and he jabs a thumb over his shoulder in lieu of finishing the sentence before walking off towards the kitchen to make the "somewhat agreeable" popcorn he'd promised. 

Cas half-smiles after him, turning back to the table to put the book away. Then he catches sight of his phone sitting next to it, and remembers what his plans for the night had been moments before. 

The text cursor blinks at him, the line still blank. Cas swallows, then types out: 

**Yes, I am. Sorry.**

Cas relaxes and closes the heavy book in front of him with a reverberating thud - which is then accompanied by an insistent buzz. 

**dang, maybe next time?**

Cas sucks in a breath. He looks off towards the kitchen where he hears the echoes of faint pops and Dean's slightly off-tune rendition of _Livin' on a Prayer_. Where Cas would normally smile at this, he instead furrows his brows and flattens his mouth into a thin line. _Next time? Would it really be so bad?_

**Maybe.**

Cas turns his phone off before any more texts can come through. 

  
  


-

  
  


"The couch is new." 

Cas is eyeing the off-white couch now situated in the middle of the "Dean Cave", flanked by the 2 leather recliners that previously made up the only sit-able furniture in the room. It's a bit small, potentially enough for 3 grown men, but it's more than likely Dean got it with the intention that it would be used 2 at a time, considering there were 2 other perfectly good chairs to sit in. 

Dean beams, "Yeah! I picked it up at the Goodwill last week. Figured we were all getting sick of the "which two of us is gonna sit on the floor tonight" game. This way we've got enough room for everyone plus extra leg room to spare." 

Dean looks genuinely excited, and Cas' heart skips at the sight. He wishes Dean got to be happy more often, after everything - he deserves it. 

Sam claps Dean on the back, "Good thinking, man. My legs _were_ getting kind of stiff." Sam punctuates that by loosening his knee and rubbing it slightly. 

Dean shoots his brother a look, "It's 'cause you're getting old, Sammy." 

"Oh, what, and you aren't Dean?" Sam fires back. 

"Not if I don't want to." Dean says, looking unaffected. 

Sam purses his lips, "Dude, that's not how it works-" 

Dean waves him off. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." He sits down on one side of the new (old? New to them) couch. 

"Cas, here," and Dean pats the seat next to him. "Come break in the new couch with me." 

That makes Cas' ears burn, but he uses his grace to will the visual effects away. He figured Dean would have Sam or Jack share the couch with him, so he's surprised at Dean's off to "break it in'' with him. Cas feels a blush start to form again; _he doesn't mean it like that, obviously._

Cas follows Dean's lead and sits down next to him, an appropriate foot of distance away (though the couch sags marginally in the middle, and Cas wonders if that will cause them to drift towards each other as the night progresses. At the very least, it'll be a good excuse if they do). 

Popcorn bowls are distributed and they all get settled in. Dean claps his hands together. "Alright. Jack, you're picking tonight. What're we watching?" 

Jack thinks for a moment, but they all know the answer. Dean even has it queued up already. 

"Clueless?" Jack answers finally. 

Sam sighs, but it's all fondness and no bite. "Why do you like this movie so much anyway?" 

Jack shrugs loosely. "I like their outfits." 

Dean laughs and clicks play.

  
  


Like Cas expected, he and Dean do drift closer through the film, so close their arms almost brush each time they reach for the popcorn providing a barrier between them. 

"Hey," Dean elbows Cas and whispers low enough that Jack and Sam won't be able to hear. "Paul Rudd looks pretty good in this one, don't you think?" 

Cas goes to roll his eyes - he doesn't need Dean to constantly reaffirm that he's _completely fine_ with Cas' sexuality - but when he angles his head towards Dean he sees something in his eyes that makes him pause. Something that makes him think that maybe Dean hasn't been trying to affirm _Cas'_ sexuality this whole week. Or, at least, not _only_ Cas'. 

Cas turns back to the screen, "Yes, I'd say so." 

"Yeah," Dean replies, and then - much _much_ quieter he adds, "I think so too." 

Cas smiles faintly, then elbows Dean right back. They go back to watching the movie in silence; shoulders pressed together. 

  
  


Cher kisses Josh and the credits roll. Cas thinks, in the faded light of the tv screen, that he wishes sometimes real life was more like the movies. The movies with happy endings and fairy tale weddings and fashionable outfit changes. Not the movies with death, and blood, and hopelessly grim endings. Not the movie their lives would likely be if they were on screen. Though he wouldn't trade what they have for anything else - it's safe to say he wouldn't mind a wardrobe change. _Or a happy ending. Maybe even a fairy tale wedding, if that isn't being too unrealistic._

Sam and Jack leave and turn in fairly soon after the movie ends, leaving both Dean and Cas finishing off the last of the small bits of popcorn collected at the bottom of the bowls. Dean yawns and presses more of his weight onto Cas' shoulder. Cas' ears burn for the 3rd time that night, but he's too busy trying to keep his heartbeat steady, so he lets them stay pink in the hopes it's too dark for Dean to notice.

Dean yawns again, "What'd ya think of the movie?" 

Cas pops another piece of popcorn into his mouth. "I agree with Jack, I like their outfits." 

"Ha, yeah. The 90's man, great decade." 

"So I've been told." 

Dean just smiles over at Cas. For a moment it's just that. Just them smiling fondly at each other while white font ticks by on a black background and their pinkies brush at the bottom of the popcorn bowl. If real life were like the movies, they'd kiss right now and the credits would roll. Cas lets himself imagine it for a second - picture perfect and tastefully shot. Maybe Dean would cup his cheek or run his hand through his hair. Maybe they'd press their foreheads together after and breath each other's air until they kiss again. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Always maybe with him, with him and _Dean_. Maybe tonight it would stop being maybe, if Cas just leaned in and- 

Dean yawns again. 

"Dean, that's the 6th time you've yawned in the past 10 minutes. I think it's safe to say you need to go to bed." 

Dean fights back another yawn, "Nah, 'm not tired, really." 

Cas arches an eyebrow, "Really?" 

Dean, despite his best efforts, yawns. 

"Ugh, fine. You're right." 

Cas' eyes soften. "Come on, I'll clean up. You should go to bed." Cas says, standing. 

Dean follows him up, and it's not even a question that Cas walks him to his room. They aren't carrying on a conversation, but it's still expected, still habit. 

They reach Dean's room and he pushes the door open and steps in. Dean turns to Cas, standing in his room with his hand on the door, and Cas could swear - he could _swear_ \- Dean hesitates for a moment. Could swear Dean's eyes flick down to his lips for just a _second;_ but then he's meeting Cas' eye again and offering him a tired smile. 

"Night, Cas." 

"Goodnight, Dean." 

Cas could swear Dean always hesitates before he clicks the door shut - but maybe that's still just wishful thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm adding this here to assuage any fear of sad foreshadowing that in my version of Supernatural they do get happy endings - and maybe even the other stuff too.


	4. Perfect, Even

It's been more than a week. 

The bars blend together. The hunts, the restless nights, the restless mornings, the slow afternoons. Dean leaving with a girl on his arm more often than not, Cas sometimes leaving after Dean - always after, never before - with a man's hand on the small of his back. 

It's a rhythm, and it beats on for a few months. 

Another bar, this time somewhere in northern Georgia, and it's a similar scene. Cas is sitting with his elbows resting on the bar (it reminds him of a different bar, a different state: _"Why would they call it a bar, if we're already in a bar. Isn't that a bit redundant? Not to mention confusing." "Cas, you're overthinking this." "I don't think I am. I think you're under-thinking this, Dean"_ ). He's partway through his third beer of the night and Dean is slamming down his second with a tall blonde a few tables down. 

Dean will take her back to the hotel, of that much Cas is certain. He's taken the last 5 women at the last 5 bars they've gone to either back to the hotel or back to the backseat. Incidentally, Cas has let 2 men take him back to their place (or to their own backseat) in the same amount of time. Maybe tonight he'll go for a "hat trick", as Dean has called it 3 bars prior - though Cas only vaguely understands the sports reference. The same bitter feeling crashes in his chest at the thought of Dean spending the night with yet another new woman. He washes it down with the same-but-not-the-same bitter taste of his beer. 

"Rough night?" 

Cas turns and finds a man with short-cropped hair and a leather jacket smirking at him from one stool over. 

_Hello, hat trick._

"Rough month, if I'm being honest." 

Hat Trick laughs, then slides over so he's directly next to Cas. "Yeah, I've been there." 

Cas just nods in response, and the man indicates to the bartender they'll be needing two more drinks. Hat Trick turns to say something, but is promptly interrupted. 

There's suddenly a firm hand on Cas' shoulder, and he hears Dean's voice come from beside him. 

"Hey, Cas, I'm beat. Why don't we get out of here?" 

Cas looks up at Dean confused. A few minutes ago he'd been _busy_ with a woman who, looking over Dean's shoulder, seems to be mildly irritated at best at being ditched. 

"Actually," Hat Trick interjects, "I was just about to buy _Cas_ here a drink." And, shit, this guy has _balls._

Dean narrows his eyes, grips Cas' shoulder tighter, and sets his jaw. "Oh, were you? Well, not anymore. We're leaving. Cas, come on." 

"Dean-' 

"I think he can make his own decisions, don't you?" 

Cas thinks, fleetingly, that he should add "men in leather jackets" to his list of people _not_ to try and pick up, if this is how they tend to act. 

Any trace of friendliness drops from Dean's face. "Yeah, of course he can, and he wants to leave. Cas, let's go." Dean says, tugging on Cas' arm. 

Cas sighs, then nods over at Ex-Hat Trick. "Sorry, goodnight." 

The guy scoffs and turns to sip his drink. Then says, with a truly incredible amount of courage or idiocy, "Whatever. Know not to get involved with a jealous boyfriend when I see one." 

Dean spins around. "Hey, what the hell did you just say?" 

Cas grabs his arm, "Dean, don't. Let's just go, okay?" 

Dean looks back at Cas. Cas' expression is firm, so Dean huffs and turns back. "Yeah, yeah fine." 

Ex-Hat Trick With Serious Balls just laughs and says, "Whipped." 

Dean turns hard around and shrugs Cas' hand off his arm, marching back towards the man while pushing his sleeves up. "Okay, that's it." 

"Dean!" 

Dean clocks the guy right in the face.

  
  


-

  
  


They're on a backroad in the middle of nowhere, because whenever Dean's behind the wheel it seems like they're always on a backroad in the middle of nowhere. Like he has every single one across the whole of America cataloged in his head. He's driving with both hands on the wheel and a face full of cuts and bruises, and Cas is sitting in the passenger's seat looking out the window with his arms firmly crossed - pissed. 

Dean steals a glance over once or twice and then eventually sighs. "Look, Cas-" 

"Save it, Dean. I don't want to hear it." 

There's a tense beat, then Cas continues. "I just can't believe you did that. What was the point?" 

"Cas, man, you didn't see the way that guy was looking at you, like he, like he-" 

"Like he what, Dean?" 

"Like he _wanted_ you, okay?" Dean says, and he looks fraught when he says it. 

Cas bites back, "And is that such a bad thing, that someone might _want_ me?" 

"I didn't mean it like that, I just- I know that kinda guy, alright? All he wanted was to get in your pants and then lose your number in the morning. You deserve better than that." 

_Oh, that's rich coming from you, Dean, the patron saint of back-alley hookups._ "Since when do you get to decide what I do and don't deserve?" 

"Cas-" 

Cas uncrosses his arms and waves them in Dean's direction. He's raising his voice, because he still is firmly _pissed._ "And what if I did want to sleep with him, Dean! What then? Why does it even matter to you who I sleep with, who I _want?"_

Dean slams on the breaks and they both lurch forward. Cas' hands slam onto the dashboard to steady himself and Dean's staring wide-eyed at the road with both hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. 

"Because I want you, Cas!" 

Cas gasps, then his own eyes go wide as he looks over at Dean. Dean's breathing hard, and he looks like he can't quite believe the words that just came out of his mouth. He stares at the road, glances at Cas, looks back at the road, then drops his eyes down to the door handle and gets out of the Impala - not bothering to shut it on the way out. 

Cas feels his heart slam against his ribcage to the beat of _I want you, I want you, I want you._

_But he couldn't mean-_

_It can't be that he-_

_Could it?_

_Maybe-_

Cas takes a few seconds and then he's opening his door, too, and standing behind it to shout after Dean who's walked a good few paces down the road and is holding a hand over his mouth. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I'm just going, okay!" Dean answers, voice thick with emotion. "I'm just- just going." 

"What are you going to do, Dean, walk back to Kansas? We're in Georgia!" 

Dean shouts back, "Well maybe- maybe I am gonna walk Cas, okay! I don't know!" 

Cas starts to step towards Dean, also neglecting to shut his own door. "Dean, Dean stop, just-" He tugs at Dean's elbow and turns him around so they're facing each other. "Stop." 

Dean isn't meeting Cas' eye and is instead looking at the loose gravel beneath their feet. "Cas, can we- can we just forget tonight ever happened? Everything at the bar and everything just now, can we just forget it? Just get back and in the car and leave it all behind, please?" 

Cas shakes his head slightly. He wants to reach up and brush a tear forming at the corner of Dean's eye away, but he already looks so _crushed_ that Cas is afraid that simple touch would scare him off entirely. 

"Dean, can you-" Cas cuts himself off, searching Dean's face for an answer. "Can you tell me what you're feeling?" 

"Cas-" 

"Please, Dean, tell me." 

Dean takes a strangled breath out, but is still looking anywhere but Cas' face. "I never slept with any of those girls. All the ones I've been picking up, I haven't actually slept with a _single one._ I kept pushing them away because whenever we'd start kissing all I'd be able to think about is _you_ and how I wish I was kissing _you_ instead and that I wanted _you_ to be the one running your fingers through my hair and _you_ pulling off my jacket and I just-" Dean stops and runs a shaky hand over his face. _I want you,_ still taps a cadence in Cas' chest. 

"I thought that the more girls I tried it with the easier it would be to get this picture of you out of my head, this picture of you where you were _mine_ , just mine. And it never worked, everything I tried it just- it made it _worse_ , just made me want you _more_. So when I saw that jerk at the bar look at you like he _wanted_ you _too_ and I saw you looking back at him like you were so _ready_ to let him have you- I couldn't take it. And it was so selfish and so shitty of me but I couldn't anymore, Cas. And it's not- you gotta know it's not just- I just wanna be around you. And I wanna hang out with you, and watch old movies with you, and have you lean your head on my shoulder and I want- I want to hold your hand while I'm driving down the road and I- I want _you_ , Cas. It's all I want." 

Cas' head had started swimming halfway through Dean's speech. All this time, all these months, maybe _longer._

_We're such idiots._

"Dean, I want that too." 

"I- what?" 

Cas smiles at Dean softly. He can have this, he just has to say it. He reaches tentatively forward and slips an unsteady hand around Dean's, and Dean lets him. "I never wanted any of those men at any of the bars, I only ever wanted _you_. I just thought that I couldn't have you." 

"But you can have me. Hell, Cas," Dean laughs, raw and watery. "You already do." 

This time, Cas does reach up and brush the tear from Dean's cheek. Dean pulls back on instinct, before leaning into the touch. "I know that _now."_

They both look at each other for a long second and then slowly they meet in the middle. And they're standing on a backroad in middle-of-nowhere Georgia and they're _finally_ kissing. Only the credits aren't rolling, and it must look _far_ from picture-perfect, and it's definitely not tasteful. But there's no more _maybe,_ there's only this. 

"You know," Cas says, when they pull apart and rest their foreheads together. "Sam and Jack don't expect us back until the afternoon." 

"I-" Dean swallows, "No, no they don't." 

Cas takes Dean's hand, and leads him back to the Impala. 

Cas had thought a lot about Dean touching him, but he'd never considered the fact that _he_ would get to touch Dean right back. 

Tug his hair, plant kisses to the hollow of his throat, run his hands over his chest. It was mesmerizing, and he wondered if now that he's had it he'd ever be able to get enough. Cas could touch every inch of Dean a hundred times over and still he would want to do it a hundred more times, and a hundred more after that. _Just checking my work._

In the end, it's amazing. Perfect, even. 

Later, they lay wrapped around each other in the backseat, lit only faintly by the faded streetlights outside. Dean is already dozing off in Cas' arms. Cas knows it's considered rude to leave - and regardless, there's no place he'd rather be - so he lets himself fall asleep too. 


	5. The Afternoon

Dean closes the door to the bunker, trying his best to make the sound not echo through the whole building. His best isn’t quite good enough, and a few moments later Sam pokes his head in from the library, still leafing through a book in his hand.

"Hey, you guys are back a little early. Wasn't that hard of a hunt I take it?”

"Nah, Sammy, pretty easy all things considered.” Dean says, nonchalant. 

"Cool, well I-” Sam finally looks up from his book. ”Hey, what's that?"

And Sam points at what is very clearly a hickey on Dean's neck.

"Dude, is that a _hickey?"_

Dean blanches and immediately reaches up to cover it, though the damage was already done."What? No way, s'just a bruise."

"A _bruise?_ Dean-"

They’re cut off by the sound of the bunker door opening and closing again, and they both look up to see Cas walking in with his trenchcoat off and folded over his arm.

"Hello, Sam.” Cas greets, as he walks down the steps.

"Hi, Cas.” And, ever the little brother, Sam adds “Hey, guess what? Dean has a hickey.”

"Sam-"

Cas squints, "Well, I'd hope so, I put it there."

"You-" Sam gasps and points one finger at Cas and then one finger at Dean, "Oh, _you-"_

"Damnit, Cas, why would you say that?"

Cas, nonplussed, "Oh, were we not going to tell Sam? I wish you would've told me that sooner than, Dean."

"No, of course we were gonna tell Sam just- not 2 seconds after we walk in the door! And not through telling him you gave me a hickey!"

Sam is still pointing and connecting the dots when Cas, still generally unbothered, says, "I see, my apologies. Do you want coffee, Dean?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." Dean replies, deciding that if this is how their day was going to go he might as well be caffeinated for it.

As Cas starts to walk towards the kitchen Dean calls after him. "Hey, I'll take-"

Cas interrupts, "I know how you take it, Dean."

The unintentional (was it unintentional?) innuendo snaps Sam out of his connect-the-dots mode and into Full-Little-Brother Mode.

"Oh, I bet he _does_ know how you take it, Dean."

Dean points a finger at Sam. "Sammy, don't you dare."

"I bet he really _gripped you tight,_ huh?"

"Sam!"

With that, Dean starts chasing Sam around the war room.

"I bet you guys had a real _profound bond_ last night."

"I'm gonna kick your ass!"

"Oh really, Dean, my ass? Not my _assbutt?"_

"Get over here!"

Cas comes back to the war room holding two cups of coffee just as Jack walks in. They both stop and take in the sight of two grown men chasing each other around the room like children.

Jack tilts his head. "Cas, what are they doing?"

Cas considers them, "I'm not sure, I think it's called sibling bonding."

Jack hums, "They can be complicated sometimes, can't they?"

"Yes," and Cas smiles, taking a sip of one of the coffees. "They really can be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! This is definitely one of the longer things I've written and I ended up being mostly happy with how it turned out. Hope you guys enjoyed! (Or if you didn't I hope you find something else that you do). Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can find me [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/omniscientoranges) on tumblr :)


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